Frost Flowers
by nerhipsona
Summary: Elsa and Hans are very differed outwardly, but have more similarities than either one of them know. As Elsa struggles to rule Arendelle and Hans deals with the aftermath of his failed takeover, these broken rulers must learn to deal with the repercussions of their powers. Fire!Hans and eventual Helsa.


Chapter One

A scattering of snowflakes blew across the Arendelle castle's sloping roof. The building inside was alive with life as Han's soldiers escorted the gentry, visiting nobles, and commoners alike to the warmest, widest rooms of the castle. Elsa of Arendelle, the soldiers whispered, were yet to be found. Since her sister Anna had left, there had been not a single whisper of the young queen's whereabouts. Some said that they had left forever to rule as snow queens in the secluded mountains, where they answered only to Odin. Others said that Prince Hans had failed. Either way, most of them both liked and respected the young man, and continued to ferry Arendelle's citizens to safety.

On the third floor, far away from the swarm of gossip forming below, a young man stood in a spacious bedroom, facing the floor polished into a mirror-like shine. He clutched his head in both his hands waiting for the worst of the migraine to pass. Blinking his green eyes, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles stood and paced, idly rubbing his gloved hands together. He knew what the soldiers had said. Years of being locked in various rooms by ill-meaning brothers or as punishment from his parents had made him quite skilled at eavesdropping. Unfortunately, he couldn't even deny most of the rumors.

He _had_ failed. There was no use in denying that now. His idea was brilliant, nearly flawless. What he hadn't counted on was Elsa's unpredictable nature, her aloof silence and quiet refusal to interact with anyone from the citizens in her court to nobles who had traveled from all over Scandinavia to witness Arendelle's re-opening. He was nearly certain fate had thrown him a bone when he had collided quite literally with the younger princess, Anna. Honestly, she wasn't _too_ bad. Bubbly, energetic, feisty, but also fairly annoying and naïve, which had greatly accelerated his plan. She was easier to move under his thumb— it took a night when it may have taken months with the closed-off Elsa. He could understand Elsa's hesitance, even her refusal to let Anna marry him instantly, and although neither of them knew it, rightfully so. But magic.

Elsa's ice magic he had not planned for. Now she was gone, leaving him and her straightforward sister in charge. Then Anna had left as well. He was in charge, but nothing was certain. Now both Anna and Elsa were gone, and he only had a vague estimation of where at that. With the constant snowfall, tracing them would be impossible without magic. Magic. Hans stared at his hands, hatred for his damned gloves rising. If Elsa didn't have to hide, why should he? In burst of self-determination, Hans ripped off the white silk gloves, throwing them into the fire. Instantly, the room filled with glowing orange gold light, and the fire burned brighter and higher than ever, swirling in thousands of colors as the white fabric withered and blackened in the flames.

Hans stared down at his hands, almost in awe. It had been too long since he had been without his silken prisons. At first glance, there was nothing special about Hans' hands. They were strong, muscular and large from years of swordplay, but with long, tapered fingers that had come from years of playing musical instruments. A bit pale maybe, but that wasn't the unusual thing about his hands. No, it was the way they glowed. Softly glowing, fire-gold veins burned in his hands, flickering and changing with the colors of the flames. Hesitantly, Hans raised one of his hands, concentrating hard. Slowly, a ball of flames rose in his palm, flickering lazily in Hans' hands. It began to grow wider and hotter, engulfing more and more of the prince's hands—

Abruptly there was a heavy knocking at the door. "Prince Hans!" Someone called, banging incessantly on the door. Instantly Hans extinguished the fire from his hands, leaping for the door. Standing in the drafty castle hall was a young soldier, slumped over and out-of-breath, his hair decorated with a smattering of snow.

"Yes?" He said as neutrally as possible, hiding his hands in his pockets. Luckily for the prince, the soldier was too exhausted to notice. "It's the princesses, your majesty. Tobjörn, one of the Duke's guards, knows where they went in the mountains." Instantly Hans' interest piqued, and he felt a flicker of relief. Perhaps he could still succeed after all. Hans nodded carefully, trying to mask his glee.

"We ride at once for the princesses," Hans commanded, half to the soldier and to himself. The soldier nodded warily, heading off down the hallway, presumably to inform the other soldiers. Hans closed the door quickly, his mind already alight. So Anna and Elsa could be found after all. This was good. Very good. Hans looked around for his gloves, but they were nowhere to be found. It was only after the awful smell that he remembered the fire. Horrified, Hans could only watch as the last of his gloves crumbled in the flames, blending with the ash. Even with his powers, there was no saving the mound of ash where his gloves had been only moments ago.

"No," he growled to himself, angrily looking at his hands. They were practically a beacon for Odin's sake. Maybe the mission and the snow would distract some of the soldiers, but not all of them. And certainly not the duke's harebrained companions who seemed as bent on destroying the 'monstrous' snow queen.

Desperately, Hans turned the dressers behind him, tossing through them quickly. All women's clothes in varying shades of cool colors. Then, in the corner of his eye, he spotted it, hanging from a string by the door were a pair of thick, brown fur mittens. He nearly sprinted to them, shoving them on his hands. Almost instantly, the room dimmed, and the fire cooled, the bright flames turning into embers. Hans allowed himself to breathe in relief. He would never have forgiven himself if that of all things had been his downfall. With his hands dealt with, Hans lifted his blue caped jacket off the hook, pulling on it as well as his thick, fur-lined pants and heavy black riding boots. Casting a final wary glance at the gloves that had concealed his most precious secret, the prince exited his sanctuary, ready to find the princesses.

When he had nearly reached the ground floor, Hans ran into the same guard who had appeared at his door no less than ten minutes ago. The poor man looked even more exhausted, shaking with cold and red in the face. "The soldiers await you in the courtyard, Prince Hans," the soldier nearly moaned, rubbing his gloved hands together.

Hans nodded, glad the brute henchmen hadn't been totally stupid after all. "Thank you. Go get some rest," Hans said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. The man looked immensely relieved, tripping off to his rest elsewhere. Noticing the man's gloved hands, an idea occurred to Hans.

"Wait!" He called, stopping the soldier in his tracks. The other man turned around warily, irritation written plainly on his face. "Give me your gloves," Hans commanded, stretching out one of his hands. Luckily for Hans, the soldier seemed too exhausted to think anything of the already-equipped Hans asking for his gloves. Instead, the soldier wordlessly peeled off his gloves, tossed them at Hans, who caught them with a brief smile, and continued his trek upstairs. Hans smiled, quickly checking that the room was still deserted before shedding the mittens, pulling on the new gloves. Hans flexed one of his hands experimentally, marveling briefly at his new accessory. They were nowhere near as fine as his old gloves, but they would do for now.

Gloves donned, Hans continued with new haste down to the ground floor. His plan could still work. If he played these cards right, he could still be the king of Arendelle. A kingdom would finally be his. If he was lucky, no one would figure out that Hans, the youngest prince of the southern isles, had fire magic.

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone. Personally I am a huge fan of both fire!Hans and Helsa, and, as you might have guessed by now, this is the result. Yes, this will be a Helsa fic, so please try to stick with me and enjoy it even if you don't ship it. I'm writing this for one of my friends who loves Helsa. She's on instagram as luna_of_amity and i.c.e.b.u.r.n.s as her specific Helsa account. If you have an account, check her stuff, both of her accounts are amazing. I'll be updating this every Friday, and I'm going to be putting up my Elder Scrolls fanfiction on Sunday. I hope some of you enjoy this and please leave me some reviews! See you next Friday :)**


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